Chen Hao was still holding the torn packet of biscuit crumbs in his hand, the powder on his fingertips not yet fully sprinkled in, when an alarm suddenly sounded in his ear.

drop--

A short, sharp sound, like a notification squeezed from the depths of the system, rang out. He paused, then looked up at the main control screen on the wall.

Nana's voice followed immediately: "Abnormal structural stress, displacement deviation of 0.3 mm at the connection node of the third support beam on the port side."

Chen Hao frowned: "What do you mean?"

“It might crack.” Carl had already grabbed his toolbox and was walking towards the door without stopping. “It won’t break now, it will break halfway through the flight.”

Chen Hao glanced down at the cookie crumbs in his hand, sighed, and poured the rest into the gap in the memory box. "Fine, God won't let us say goodbye in peace."

He casually stuffed the empty package into his pocket and turned to follow Carl.

The lights in the engineering cabin had just come on when Nana's projection was already waiting for them. The 3D model floated in mid-air, a red dot flashing, marked on the bottom of the ship near the main control room.

"Here." She pointed and zoomed in on the image. "Uneven stress caused metal fatigue, and the vibrations during the test caused minute displacements. It hasn't reached the critical value yet, but the continuous oscillations during navigation are increasing the risk."

Carl crouched down, turned on the probe device, and inserted it into the gap. "I need to see the live feed."

Chen Hao leaned against the wall, his heavy body making his feet creak. "Couldn't you just go around the repair shop? Why do we have to crawl inside?"

“It’s unavoidable,” Nana said. “The outer covering has solidified, and disassembly would take more than four hours, which is not the most efficient solution.”

“Then I have no choice but to go.” Carl tightened the glove on his wrist. “Nobody can take my job. There’s only room for half of me.”

Chen Hao grinned: "Are you showing off that you're thin?"

“I was afraid you’d get stuck and we’d have to rescue you.” Without looking back, Karl climbed into the access hatch.

The space was indeed cramped. Once inside, shoulders were pressed against the pipes, knees against the insulation, and the target node could barely be reached with an outstretched hand. As Karl adjusted his position, he muttered a few curses about the materials supplier.

Chen Hao was squatting outside, holding a tool tray. "Tell me what you need."

"Glue gun, low-temperature curing type."

Which one?

"The one with the label that says 'b-7'."

Chen Hao rummaged around for a while and pulled out a silver tube. "This? It looks like a nutritional paste."

"Don't compare randomly." Carl took it and tested the amount of glue dispensed. "No, it sets too quickly and there's not enough time to shape it."

Nana immediately brought up the database interface: "I suggest switching to a segmented low-temperature curing process, lowering the ambient temperature to minus fifteen degrees Celsius to slow down the reaction speed."

"An air conditioner can do this?" Chen Hao turned to look at the control panel.

"Okay." Nana operated the controls for a few seconds, "It will start cooling down in two minutes."

A cold draft quickly blew out of the vents. Chen Hao rubbed his arms: "Are we repairing a ship or making frozen food?"

Carl ignored him and focused on squeezing the adhesive. A thin layer of composite adhesive covered the crack, its surface having a matte gray hue.

"First layer complete," he said. "Wait thirty seconds before adding the carbon fiber belt."

Nana is updating the stress simulation diagram in real time. The red area is shrinking, but there are still slight fluctuations at the edges.

“The pressure distribution is uneven,” she said. “I suggest adjusting the angle of the second layer of cross-winding to 55 degrees.”

"I'll listen to you." Carl switched positions and pulled out another section of prepreg tape.

By the time the colloid began to harden, the outside temperature had dropped considerably. Chen Hao, wrapped in his coat, handed over the tools while counting the time.

"Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen..."

"Stop reading," Karl whispered. "My hands are shaking if you keep reading."

"Do you shake?" Chen Hao laughed. "If I do, I'll ask Nana to record it so you can show it to your kids later. It shows how nervous Dad was when he was repairing the boat."

“If my son dares to study mechanics in the future, I’ll send him to farm.” Carl gritted his teeth and finished attaching the last strip of tape. “Seal it off!”

Nana immediately initiated the pressurization process. A small hydraulic device applied pressure slowly to ensure the materials adhered tightly.

"Curing," she said. "It's expected to be completed in eight minutes."

Chen Hao breathed a sigh of relief and plopped down on the ground. "I thought I was really doomed this time. I had just finished preparing my memoirs."

"Where did you get your memoir?" Karl pulled off his gloves and wiped his face.

"I wrote it in my dream." Chen Hao shrugged. "I even have the title in mind—'How a Fat Man Ruins an Interstellar Voyage'."

Nana calmly said, "Based on the existing data, your actual impact on the mission progress is a positive 3.2 percent."

"Look!" Chen Hao said proudly, "The robot has certified me; I'm not a burden anymore."

“She’s afraid you’ll become depressed.” Carl stood up and stretched. “It’s just comforting data.”

The three of them huddled around the terminal, waiting for the results. The numbers on the screen kept fluctuating before finally stabilizing.

[Structural stability rating: S]

[Load-bearing capacity increased to 120% of the original design]

[Displacement deviation returned to zero]

Chen Hao whistled: "Did it work?"

“It’s done.” Karl nodded. “It can withstand the shock of ten jumps.”

Nana closed the log window: "The hazard has been marked as 'handled' and automatically archived to the navigation log."

Chen Hao walked to the side of the ship and patted the metal hull twice. "Listen up, old buddy, we've finally made it this far, don't let it fall apart on the way here."

No one responded. Only the ventilation system emitted a soft hum.

Carl began packing up his tools. He checked each wrench, probe, and glue gun, placing them back in the box in order. His movements were slow, as if he were taking stock of some kind of farewell ceremony.

Nana stood by the control panel, the light and shadow casting shadows on her face. Her gaze swept over the two of them, pausing for a moment.

“I updated a log entry while you were working on your assignment,” she said.

"Huh?" Chen Hao asked.

"This repair was completed collaboratively by three people. It took 117 minutes. Three temporary solutions were used. There were a total of 43 verbal exchanges."

Chen Hao laughed: "You still remember this?"

"This is a sample for analyzing team behavior patterns," she said. "If similar situations need to be reproduced in the future, the response logic in this case can be used as a reference."

"To put it bluntly, arguing is effective." Chen Hao shrugged. "Next time, just start arguing directly, it saves time."

Carl closed the toolbox and locked it with a click. "No matter how much we argue, the work still needs to be done."

He picked up the suitcase and walked towards the door.

Chen Hao took one last look at the repair site on the bottom of the hull. There was now a square cover plate there, coated with anti-rust paint, and there was nothing unusual about it.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Susan must be getting impatient.”

The three of them left the engineering cabin together. The lights went out one by one as they walked, until only the main control screen remained lit, displaying a green status for the ship.

The corridor was quiet.

Chen Hao walked in the middle, one hand in his pocket, and touched the folded piece of paper—the draft of the farewell speech he had written last night, which he hadn't had time to copy yet.

He didn't take it out.

Carl walked ahead, his steps steady. As he rounded the corner, he reached out and touched the wall, as if to make sure something was still in place.

Nana lagged behind. She glanced back at the engineering hatch until it was completely closed before turning around and following.

The lights in the main hall were still on. Susan's figure could be vaguely seen sitting at the table.

Chen Hao quickened his pace and pushed open the door.

“We’ve arrived,” he said. “The last hurdle is over.”

Susan looked up, nodded, and didn't ask for details.

Four cups were placed on the table, with steam rising slightly.

Carl placed his toolbox in the corner and took off his coat to hang it up.

Nana walked to the terminal and said softly, "The ceremony is ready and can begin at any time."

Chen Hao sat down and picked up the cup. The temperature was just right.

He took a sip and didn't burn his tongue.

Carl sat down next to Susan and reached out to touch the back of her hand.

Nana stood half a step behind them, without sitting down.

Chen Hao looked around and suddenly smiled.

“To be honest,” he said, “I thought we were going to die here.”

No one responded.

But he knew they had all heard it.

The wind outside the window whistled softly against the outer wall of the base.

Chen Hao put down his cup, the bottom of which hit the table with a crisp sound.